"Do you know what the pincer movement is?" Tyson narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, befuddled. "It's also known as the double envelope, it's a military strategy that was most successfully employed by Hannibal," McHale planted the index finger of his right hand in his chest, " against the romans," now pointing at 3XK, " in the second Punic war. You see, Hannibal's forces were outnumbered something like ten to one. So what he did was allow the roman forces to advance at his center, giving them the opportunity to cut his forces in half. But while the romans were focused at the center, Hannibal advanced his flanks, halting roman reinforcements, and then brought his Calvary around the back, connecting the pincers, or closing the second envelope as it were. The romans were surrounded, their numbers meant nothing, and were forced to surrender. So while I could give you a pen to sign that, it wouldn't matter. You see, while you were focused on the center, my center, Richard Castle, you didn't notice the envelopes closing around you. The first was your confession, which is on tape, not in writing as this agreement calls for; and the second was time. When I came in here, and set this deal in front of you, I told you it wouldn't last; it had an expiration date, and you had an hour to sign it. That hour passed…," McHale peered up at the clock on the wall behind Tyson, watching the second hand sweep 3XK away like a broom, "five minutes and thirty-six, thirty-seven seconds ago. So you just buried the needle in your arm fifteen times over." McHale returned to the table, slapping down his file folder and grabbing up the agreement, triumphantly ripping it to shreds and letting the pieces fall like wilted leaves. McHale whispered to an astonished public defender, "Always read the fine print." McHale then swung his head left, leaning over the table, bringing his nose within an inch of Tyson's. "Check mate."
Inside observation, a tide of relief washed over a beleaguered Richard Castle. Kate wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Castle was as slow to wrap his arm around her waist as he was to wrap his mind around what had just transpired. While giving 3XK a deal was logical, he had hated McHale for even offering it to him; but now he could see McHale was after justice as vehemently as anyone in the precinct. Kate placed a quick peck of a kiss on Rick's face.
"We've gotta tell the guys!" Kate exited observation, meeting McHale just outside. She held out her hand and was met with his for a firm, friendly handshake. Castle stood motionless for a moment longer, drinking in the victory over what had proved to be a most formidable foe. The obviously infuriated Tyson drove his spirits upward, before departing the small dark room. Once outside Castle observed the team, and McHale, in the conference room, passing libations about. He lumbered to Kate's desk, where McHale had set his file. Castle flipped open the cover and retrieved Alison's photo, taking it into his hands.
In the conference room,, the team had once again begun to interrogate McHale about his dealings with Tyson. Detective Ryan started with the most obvious of questions.
"Six months is a long time, what kept you from just … killing the guy?"
"Something my choir teacher said to me when I was a kid, it was about delayed gratification. And murder is a crime, unless of course it's done by the state."
"I can drink to that!" Esposito raised a bottle of ice cold beer to his lips. After a few sips, he posed a question of his own, just as Kate walked into the room with Alexis. "Spill bro, How did you track the guy? We all thought he was dead, and even before that dude was a ghost." Kate took the seat just to McHale's left, Alexis on the left of her.
"Most serial killers take trophies right? But as far as we knew, Tyson never took any. That got me thinking about the nature of a trophy. Not serial killer trophy, just trophies in general. That's when it dawned on me, Beckett, where are all the New York Yankee's world championship trophies?"
"On display at Yankee Stadium."
"Exactly. So when I connected 3XK to Alison's murder I cooked up this little gadget." McHale reached into his backpack producing a dark green plastic box with strapping attached. "This is a wildlife camera, available at most sporting goods stores where hunting equipment is sold. I fitted it with a Wi-Fi air card and some new software so it could transmit instantly and wirelessly to my phone, and I set it up at her grave. His first trophy was on display. He couldn't touch it, but that doesn't mean he couldn't visit. And I got on his trail when he visited on the anniversary of her murder."
Castle's right thumb traced over Alison's cheek, as he stood with his eyes closed and chin lowered; as if to relive the softness of her cheek against his hands one last time. His mind raced over the events of the day until he found himself once again on the wrong end of unanswered questions. Rick's eyes snapped open and his teeth grit in determination. He walked with square shoulders, taking large steps toward the conference room, until he reached the door; which he did not politely enter through. Crashing into the room and slamming the door behind him, Castle caused the glass walls to shake. "Listen buddy, you said you would tell us everything, and everything you've done today has been nothing short of cold, calculated and deliberate. So, why in interrogation did you say he put the needle in his arm FIFTEEN times over, when with Marcus and Carl's testimony is should be SIXTEEN. And what do you get out of this? This took a lot of effort, so there has to be a reason." Castle took two domineering steps toward McHale, seated at the head of the table, then reached out and wrapped his strong fists around McHale's collar. "You ruined my day, and destroyed one of my fondest memories in one foul swoop. I want some answers."